


Flip a Coin in the Rainy Skies

by KesaKo



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, Charles Getting Uncomfortable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Charles saves the food, Dinner, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is nervous, Erik just wanted to invite Charles for dinner, First Date Gone Wrong, First Dates, Fix-It, Fluff, Hank is too pure, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Odyssey Date, Poor Erik, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Reference to Extermination Camps, Second-Hand Embarrassment, X-Men: Days of Future Past Fix-it, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-12 22:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11171370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KesaKo/pseuds/KesaKo
Summary: Following the events of Washington, Charles and Erik slowly resume their friendship. A nervous Erik decides to take the opportunity to finally invite Charles over for dinner. Things drastically get out of hand(grenade).For theTeam Cherik's WEEK 1 prompt:First date. First time dating a man. Dinner.Translation avalaible inChinese





	Flip a Coin in the Rainy Skies

**Author's Note:**

> **Join the FACEBOOK GROUP[TEAM CHERIK](https://www.facebook.com/groups/TeamCherik/), it's a friendly place!**
> 
> My deep gratitude to [magneeterandwheels](http://magneeterandwheels.tumblr.com/) for offering to beta this. She draws fanarts for the fandom, go and take a look at her Tumblr!
> 
>  **16/11/17** Translation now available in **[Chinese](http://maigenitou0829.lofter.com/post/1eae3b44_10d2c80f)** thanks to Jane0829.
> 
> This was my first attempt at comedy fluff (with a hint of pAiN), so please do let me what you think !  
>  Cherik Love on you all, I hope you'll have a good time :)

 

Erik Lehnsherr had gone through many unpleasant events in his life, but he couldn’t recall ever feeling nervous.

He had faced true fear as a child in the camps, and later on too, before he'd finally killed Shaw. He knew when apprehension lowered his body temperature to an uncomfortable level, as it last happened when he had been sentenced to spend the rest of his brutal life in prison. He could faintly remember the acute briefness of joy, its warmth, its odd and frightening power of seduction.

Mostly, he could remember love and pain, which always are two sides of the same coin, even if over the course of his life Erik had repeatedly flipped it into the rainy skies to watch as it had consistently landed on the filthy ground with the same result.

Even the rain doesn’t seem to wash the crusted blood on that fated coin.

So he really didn’t understand why he was _nervous_ today.

 

**October, 21st, 1974**

When Erik woke up at five o'clock that day, he unusually delayed his morning routines— drinking from the bottle of water in the fridge followed by a quick shower — to come closer to the small dining table in his living room.

The note was still there.

_“Dear Erik,_

_Friday of next week sounds lovely. As you say, dinner will be perfect to catch up. Don’t hesitate to call if you have a change of heart or if something unexpected comes up, but I do hope we’ll be able to spend this evening together._

_Your “old” friend, Charles Xavier”_

Absentmindedly snorting as he read the quotation marks around the word _old_ — he could just picture his teasing face — Erik finally went back to his morning routine.

Almost a year had passed since the events of Washington before Erik and Charles came into contact again. Then, the thick tension between them had still been uncomfortably palpable but, with time, their relationship slowly improved, to the point that they now called each other or, more often, wrote each other letters. Long, very long and fascinating letters. _Fascinated_ letters.

They had started short and awkward, but neither of them could really stop defending a point or exposing an idea in detail, so the letters had gradually turned into passionate essays with a hint of political fiction. The saddest part for Erik was always to burn them — he couldn’t risk involving Charles if the government eventually managed to find him.

He didn’t even own something to remember Charles by, he had realized many years ago in prison. But he had also realized at that time that he didn’t need a token of the mutant to imagine his conversation at his side.

 _I’ve heard Johnson won the elections_ , his apparition would report animatedly from one corner or the other of Erik’s white, dull prison under the Pentagon, _now, he is deeply involved in the civic rights movement, you can guess he has my support. You’ll see, my friend, the world will be getting better._

“You’re a fool, Charles.”

A smile — a ghost, a years old memory. Forgiving.

Lately, Erik’s life has been surprisingly uneventful for once — he’s been keeping a low profile since Washington — and having Charles back in his life as a result was too painful a joy. Erik couldn’t fool himself into thinking that the feeling he got every time he saw Charles or received a new letter of him was anything but unadulterated glee.

He couldn’t fool himself, because he’d been feeling this for far too long. Because the longing that choked his lungs in Charles’ absence and _especially_ in his presence whenever Charles laughed, or listened intently to Erik, or exploded in a fit of arrogant irritation, was laced with sheer pain.

Flip a coin and deduce what that meant.

 

“ _Shalom,_ ” he wished the male grocer with a nod as he attempted to take his breath back, “You don’t have kosher duck?”

“We don’t, but we’ll receive more on Thursday.”

Erik hissed lightly. He needed it for tonight. He wiped his wet forehead with his arm and blinked away the sweat off his salty eyelashes. Then, as his heart slowed down gradually, he turned around and tried to think of something. His daily morning run was particularly necessary when he needed to release stress and make plans.

“You seem upset...Were you planning to impress a girl tonight or something?”

“Something like that.” Erik answered neutrally, giving the man the fresh vegetables he had carefully chosen a few moments ago. He needed to find another grocery store on his way back to work.

“Good day, sir, and well, good luck for tonight then!”

 

Around the middle of the afternoon, Erik was steadily growing more irritable and restless at work — yes, he did manage to find a job in _New York_ without the government finding out, which just told so much about the inadequacy of humans in modern days — and he found himself giving in and calling the Mansion in Westchester to make sure Charles was still going to come.

He would. Excitedly.

 

By the start of the evening, Erik was back at his apartment to organize everything, from the cooking he handled expertly with the use of his powers — and an apron around his tapered waist — to the table, and the choice of decoration.

The agitation which tensed his body and slightly quickened his pace around the apartment certainly didn’t show on his impassive, frowning face, but every passing hour, minute, and then second worsened his slight feverishness as they neared the appointed time.

Charles was coming to his place. And they both knew why.

After all these years. So long after the time they spent together chasing mutants back in 1962. They had hurt each other ever since the day they met. Not often, but deeply. Irrevocably. Both bared the scars inflicted by the other — of various size, of various impact on their life. He cherished the ones Charles inflicted him with his tender smiles and quick wits.

Admittedly, Erik certainly wasn't choosing the easiest person to seduce for his first date with a man.

_Verdammt._

But after all, nothing had ever been _easy_ with Charles, save for the friendship they shared, one made of understanding and loyalty that both went beyond words. And they were worth working for.

 _What am I doing?_ The awestruck thought filled the air from time to time as he stared at the food or towards the romantic setting of the table. _This is ridiculous._

When he was done cooking, Erik took another shower and slipped his black turtleneck on with a pair of jeans. He hoped the turtleneck was a good choice. Charles had seemed to like it back then.

However, this being his first experience with a man, he absolutely had no idea what was considered the norm and what was too much for a date, so in the end he decided to light the chandelier he placed on the side of the round dining table, but put away the single red rose which floated in an elegant bud vase. For the time being. If Charles liked the atmosphere, he would put the flower back.

He barely had the time to stand up straight when someone knocked at the door.

Erik had known true fear, and torture, and loss.

Surely he shouldn’t have been this nervous.

 

⊗

 

Charles spent an amazing few hours in New York with Hank. True, his young friend had to take an injection of his own serum to temporarily retrieve his human form, and time flew so fast that Hank was now back to his fluffy self in the middle of the town, but they went to the most _interesting_ conference and they couldn’t stop talking about it. Thankfully the mantle of the night came down quickly over the city, wrapping their dark figures in cold and midnight blue as they now entered the building in which Erik lived.

Since it was already so late, Charles offered the scientist to come along and stay for dinner with them. He figured that wouldn’t be a problem with Erik and, well, if food was going to be an issue, they could always order take-out. For his part, Charles made sure _booze_ — Raven’s slang — would be enough by bringing an extra bottle of scotch to celebrate their coming together. He already felt ten years younger.

What fun they were going to have!

“Are you sure I’m not going to intrude, Professor?” Hank inquired, ever considerate.

“Absolutely not!” Charles exclaimed dismissively. Exiting the elevator, they tried to find Erik’s apartment. Actually, the telepath managed to get his bearings by sensing the familiar and beautiful, complex mind on his right. It rather felt wrapped up in unknown thoughts. “Ah, here it is. Don’t worry, Hank, it’s fine. Besides, Erik has been most _charming_ lately, he really insisted I come to his apartment, I’m sure he’s going to be glad to see you on his doorstep.”

When they finally reached the door, Charles breathed in, smiling, and knocked against the surprisingly thin wooden door. The building was modest, but Erik’s security partly depended on his discretion in the city. Besides, he never was a materialist.

They waited for a few seconds in an expectant silence, but no one answered. Was his friend busy?

“Is he here?” Hank asked.

“Yes, he’s just a few yards away.” After the two mutants shared a glance, Hank reassured him with a small smile and Charles knocked again, feeling more confident.

This time, Erik’s voice reached them immediately, “Come in, Charles.”

His smile broadened until Charles was sure Hank was glancing down at him because he was outwardly grinning.

 _This is going to be an amazing evening_ , he thought as he opened the door to roll his wheelchair inside the apartment joyfully. It had been so long since Charles shared a meal with his f…

Friend.

“Oh, God.”

Charles was not sure what detail made him first suddenly realize with sheer dread his horrible, horrible mistake: this dinner was never meant to be a friendly business.

Maybe the first clue was the inviting, subdued gloaming light bathing the apartment, or the fact that Erik was currently formally standing in the middle of the entrance, clad in that deliriously-fitting turtleneck that he wore as proudly as he had ten years ago now that he had lost a bit of the attractive chubbiness thanks to cardio, or maybe it was the magnificent chandelier unequivocally glowing in the middle of the dining table, but — all of a sudden, dreadfully, Charles understood that he had been very, very wrong, and the way Erik’s face instantly fell when he spotted Hank behind him made him very, _very_ aware of that fact.

     (Flip a coin and raise your hopeful heart against the rain, Erik, and see, see for yourself on what side it will land.)

For a few stunned seconds, they could only stare at each other, dumbstruck for very different reasons.

Erik had planned to _seduce him?_

Tonight. After all those years. After everything that had happened. This was a date. Oh, God, Erik had invited him to a _date._

Just when the telepath was starting to think they were both going to remain frozen forever in shock (for Charles) and apparent mortification (for Erik), the latter spun around wordlessly and stormed to the living room and the dining table — his mind, an intricate, throbbing maze of surging pain and whipping shame.

It was a slap. Charles’ eyelashes fluttered, momentarily darkening his vision, and he came back to his senses.

“Was this… Erik, did you intend this to be—”

“No.” He abruptly cut him off, already putting out the candles one by one by aggressively pressing the flames between his thumb and his index finger. He was not looking at Charles.

     (Flip your coin, Erik. What side did you get for hoping?)

Charles, Charles felt awful. “I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, my friend, I didn’t realize…”

“Forget it.”

For once, Erik looked so pitiful, so thrown off by the turn of events which he seemed to resign himself to without much ado, that Charles couldn’t have simply _forgotten about it_ even if the fact that Erik had actually organized a dinner date for him didn’t shake him to the core. And his friend was hurt, God, Charles could feel how his soul was attempting to stop the unexpected bleeding.

No one was really sure if the party was cancelled or if Erik was about to force himself to invite Hank in, but it was obvious they couldn’t pretend everything was fine under those circumstances.

So Charles turned his face around and up to Hank and asked him apologetically, “Hank, would you mind terribly if…”

This was an awful thing to ask, since poor Hank had nowhere to hide in New York in his mutant form, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to abandon Erik like this. Erik could even refuse to see him again, and eventually disappear before they settled this.

“N—No, of course not, Professor!” Hank nonetheless agreed hurriedly, clearly uncomfortable. It was obvious even to him what was really happening there.

“I’m sorry to let you down like this, will you be alright?” Charles inquired, concerned. “I know Raven is in town, I’m sure you could spend a couple of hours with her. Tell her I said… Well, no, refrain from saying anything as long as you can, please.”

“I’ll try.”

This was, actually, the only sensible answer seeing as Hank couldn’t refuse Raven anything and Raven always got her way.

When Hank eventually stepped back with a small repentant smile on his pinched, dark blue lips, Charles sighed heavily and headed for the kitchen, led by the scolding whiplashes pouring out of Erik’s mind like so many hateful tentacles.

_I was so stupid to think Charles was feeling the same. Twelve years later I still manage to ruin everything. Of course he doesn’t like me. I should’ve known. He’s here. He didn’t leave. Telepath. Get out, get out, GET OUT_

“If you’re staying to _discuss_ , Charles,” Erik however simply informed in a dispassionate voice with his back to him, as he appeared to be cutting vegetables with his hands resting over the knives, “this isn’t necessary: I’m not one of your precious students, I don’t need you to lick my wounds. Don’t insult me by trying, I’ve been through worse.”

Looking around him with curiosity — this really was the first time he had the opportunity to see where Erik lived, and he wasn't one bit surprised to see how spotless, how spartiate the decoration was, as if he didn’t plan to stay here long — Charles came closer, stopping beside his proud, picked friend.

Erik’s jaw clenched tightly, and his stormy eyes were fixated on his task as if to murder the vegetables.

“Erik…” He sighed again. Displaying some compassionate pity apparently wasn't something Erik was keen on hearing though, so he argued gently, “You should know I would never accept the horrors of your past as a justification to hurt you.”

At that, Erik gave a snort. _How very Charles_ , the telepath heard, and the remark was equally scornful and fond.

“I apologize, my friend, I truly didn’t know you were…” The familiar, beautiful eyes lowered and glided to his own, defying him to use the word _gay_ , and Erik arched an expectant eyebrow until Charles clarified, “ _interested_ , otherwise…” — he gulped down — “otherwise I would’ve come alone.”

This earned Charles a surprised blink. Soon however, Erik broke eye contact to seemingly continue with his task — Charles couldn’t see very well from his wheelchair, but he could hear — and he asked in a neutral voice that poorly concealed his insecurity, “You… would’ve come?”

 _Yes. If only you had made your intentions clear._ He transmitted telepathically, trying to dose the teasing and the sadness in his mind adequately.

A little smile conquered Charles’ face when he saw Erik’s body relax slightly. His mind also lowered its barriers of self-aggressiveness, but he still replied accusingly, “I would’ve thought twelve years later we would be past pretending. How could you _not_ know I was interested, Charles?”

“Well, twelve years _did_ pass before we got that far.” He shot back, slightly amused.

His feelings for Erik always had been very obvious, and what Charles hadn't understood of his relationship with the mutant back when he was a pompous flirt from Oxford, he’d had a lot of time to figure it out when Erik’s abandonment had crushed his heart and lungs and left him on the brinks of spilling the resentful tears from his red-rimmed eyes for nearly ten years.

They were still both incredibly pissed at the other for everything that had happened — and _hadn't_ happened — but, if the last months were any proof, they were trying. Erik had been trying.

So Charles decided to deflect the tension by changing the subject to something that strangely moved him when he entered the kitchen, “You even cooked.”

Because indeed, several different dishes seemed to be on display on the counter, and two of them were emitting the most delicious and exotic smell on the stove. Charles couldn’t quite explain why, but seeing Erik so capable in the kitchen was doing things to his libido. He was so talented, so full of surprise.

“I didn’t know you could. I would’ve thought…”

“...that I spent most of my life locked up or on the run, and that I wouldn’t know how to prepare goulash?” Erik replied, slightly teasing now even if Charles could only spot the barest hint of teeth on his half-smile.

Well… probably. But at least this got Erik distracted from his broody mood.

“Is that what it is? It smells ravishing.”

To his surprise, when Charles started to stretch his neck to try and take a glimpse at the dishes, they all started levitating to him one after the other to his eye-level. How thoughtful.

“Goulash duck soup, black beans hummus and yogurt cucumber marinade.” Erik listed unhurriedly. “And Passover brownie cake for dessert.”

Each dish looked more colorful, meticulously prepared and enticing than the last one, and Charles didn’t really know if he was about to drool because everything seemed delicious, because Erik had made them for him or simply because he could name them without messing up.

The inspiration for this dinner was not lost on him though.

“Oriental Jewish dishes?” He inquired excitedly, turning to Erik who was now smiling slightly. “That’s amazing, I never tasted those. I _love_ foreign food!”

The smile remained the same, but Erik’s mind softened, painfully so, and he simply answered, “I know.”

It prompted questions to Charles’ mind, who grew curious — but now was not yet the time to corner Erik. Just then however, the mutant glanced at Charles knowingly, stretching his already teasing half-smile, and the tension in the room seemed to lessen a bit more — to be loaded with all the things unsaid.

This was both usual and suddenly too much.

 _This is meant to be a date_ , seemed to scream their alert eyes.

However, Erik remained on his guard, as if he still expected Charles to go at any moment, so the telepath coughed lightly and returned his attention to the food.

“Surely you won’t be able to eat all that. With a body such as yours, I don’t think you can.” Oh _bravo,_ Charles, that was very smooth.

Erik’s following glance was quick and appraising.

“Certainly not.”

“Well, then, can I assist you in eating it?” He asked eagerly. Charles was quite confident this upward hopeful expression would help melt Erik’s defenses — if he couldn’t count on his blue eyes or his red, lazily smiling lips, he had no idea what Erik was lusting after. True, since his life had changed a few months ago, Charles felt more animated and he’d started to take care of himself again. He currently slightly regretted not to be wearing one of his favorite dating outfits, but he was clean shaven, with a flowy haircut that rather looked like his younger self, even if longer. “It would be a shame if you had to throw it all away.”

“Do you want me to put it in a plastic box for you to take home?” Erik casually inquired. “If you’re so foody. Then you wouldn’t have to stay.”

This time, Erik didn’t try to hide the slight upturn of his lips. They were joking. Brilliant. Charles should have been slightly offended, but he purposefully reassured Erik by saying, “I think I’d rather like to stay... Unless you also have paper cups for that delicious red wine I see on display on the counter?”

To his delight, Erik tensed and the slightest hint of a blush appeared on his visible cheek at the mention of the very obviously romantic choice of beverage. Charles decided the daily sight of Erik being embarrassed would be delightful.

“I don’t.” He answered with dignity.

“Well, then, I’ll stay, if that’s still alright.”

The smile grew broader across Erik’s lips, nearing the scary feral smile Charles loved so dearly. His voice, however, sounded like warm honey.

“It is.”

 

⊗

 

One would think that, since both Charles and Erik wordlessly acknowledged this evening was intended as a formal date, all tension, all crushing pressure or self-doubt would be gone. Instead, Charles’ slight restlessness joined Erik’s : while the telepath distractedly adjusted the silverware — which was already flawlessly perpendicular to the plate — the other mutant came back with the first course and the bottle of wine.

For a second, the flames of the candles Charles had started to light reflected on the glass of the bottle, and he gulped a bit.

Oh God, they were really doing this.

Not only the person standing across from him was his _friend_ , but he was also a _man_. How was he supposed to proceed? Charles was completely out of his depths.

Erik crossed his eyes precisely at that moment of wild apprehension and, surprisingly, relaxed and started pouring the wine — what a liquid, sensual sound in the silence — as he confessed, “I should warn you, Charles : I don’t know what I’m doing.” He sits. “I don’t know how this works.”

Oh, so this really was a first time for Erik, too. Good. He chuckled. “Me neither. I’ve never…”

“Really?”

Erik sounded genuinely surprised, even curious. As Charles absentmindedly mirrored him and grabbed his drink to toast with the mutant — which wasn’t as stressful a moment as he thought it would be — he raised his eyebrows with a somewhat outraged giggle to ask, “Did you really think I did?”

Did he really give off that kind of vibe back in the days? Did Erik really _think_ that he wouldn’t have tried to seduce him first if he had been experienced?

Now Erik looked slightly embarrassed, which was rather fetching under the light of the candles, and he denied, “No, I…”

But he did. Charles stole the answer from his mind, and realized Erik figured he had either had an interesting sex life in Oxford or that it had happened in the last twelve years.

“You _did_.” He accused without repressing his shocked smile.

Mirrors extended as Erik smiled in return, something delighted and a little shy.

“Alright, yes, I did.” He laughed briefly before Charles’ existential thoughtfulness, and then shrugged and admitted without quite looking at him, “The fact that other men never tried or managed surprised me more, actually. I simply thought you naturally attracted a lot of attention from both genders.”

The disinterested compliment spread surprise and pleasure in Charles’ chest, as he often thought Erik was particularly stunning enough to bed whomever caught his attention. It was, certainly, very true.

“Same to you.” He answered good-naturedly.

Recalling that the subject had been Erik’s nervousness about making things right for tonight, he added, “But this is a wonderful date, Erik, thank you. No one ever prepared me such a romantic dinner.”

Ah, back again. Even without being a telepath, Charles would have noticed Erik’s new peak of unsettled nervousness when the man suddenly clenched his jaw, taking hold of a lighter with his powers to finish lighting the candles as he made sure he wasn’t being teased by looking at Charles under the protection of his eyelashes.

He looked so dark and handsome like this. Charles’ heart started beating faster. A beating pulse started dancing against the skin of one of this wrists. What now…?

The gaze drew out, uncertain, searching, loud.

When the lighter Erik was controlling inadvertently touched the table and all of a sudden the tablecloth ignited in one fast, surprisingly high flame at their side, breaking their bewildered eye contact, Charles swore and Erik frantically slapped the table until he smothered the fire.

“Shit.”

Well, that certainly killed the mood.

Smoke mockingly snaked out from under the palm of his hand as Erik adjusted the hem of his turtleneck. He eventually decided to gracefully stand up and head for the kitchen in order to conceal his sudden self-consciousness.

Charles bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh.

He did want to try the food, so he managed to contain himself.

 

⊗

 

Charles was enjoying the food Erik prepared like the dish was some sort of carnal pleasure or the one thing that he had missed in his life to be truly happy, and it was a sight Erik didn’t know he needed until he faced it. The way Charles intermittently shut his eyes and whimpered in an appreciative rumble, repeating “ _This is so good, Erik”, “Erik, this is_ delicious _”_ between two arguments of their ongoing conversation, was totally worth the hours he had spent in the kitchen. Charles seemed so genuinely glad, his satisfied smile was so infectious, that Erik had to remind himself to eat actual food instead of devouring every expression of that beautiful face.

Would they age, one day? Charles changed a bit since 1962, but now that his haircut resembled the one Erik had known, only his soul seemed altered, because of Cuba, because of the weary passing of time, because of Erik.

If with food, or difficult truths, or his body Erik could make Charles smile then, he would. He would.

“I think I need to broach the subject.” The telepath suddenly announced once his plate was completely clean.

It startled Erik. His stomach clenched and his spine tensed, making him sit straighter on his chair, but he nodded. Right. They needed to clear things. Charles did seem a bit unsure.

“Go ahead.” He said.

A throat clearing, a light pat on the corner of the napkin against his bottom lip — which should have been for effect but wasn’t with Charles — and he started, visibly a bit uncomfortable, “So you’ve never…” He bit his lower lip, a high recurrence on the list of Erik’s shameful fantasies. “with… you know… with men.”

Sex. Charles was facing the main subject head on. “We established that.”

He wasn't uncomfortable with the subject. If anything, Erik was quite confident he’d manage to please Charles in bed. But this _was_ unknown territory for both of them, and they didn’t _know_ if it would work out the way Erik expected it to.

“And I suppose it didn’t escape you that I am currently in a wheelchair.” He continued, hinting at the item with his eyes.

How could Erik ever forget? Bitterness and harsh memories twisted his lips when he answered laconically, “Hardly.”

But — Wait. Was Charles concerned because…? “But you’ve been in a wheelchair for the past ten years, Charles,” he argued, taken aback, “don’t tell me that _no one…”_

A sorry smile, a bit rueful, and it clenched Erik’s throat.

“I wouldn’t go that far… But — Let’s say my days as a dashing Oxfordian graduate in Genetics are long gone.”

He heard the words, heard the small self-deprecating laugh, but they made no sense to Erik : all the reasons he had fallen hard for Charles were still there so many years later, and suddenly a pang of anger raced through his body.

“Charles,” he said decidedly, “you are the _brightest mind_ on the planet. You are stupidly soft, and far too forgiving and…” The next words should have been easy, because they were true, Charles _was_ handsome, but Erik’s mouth dried in a second.

The light of the candle flickered gently as Charles watched him with wild, surprised blue eyes. Breathing in, Erik considered the hand in the middle of the table. He could do this.

Forcing his body to move with all his might, Erik watched as his own hand hovered over Charles’ for far too long. His heartbeat picked up pace, expanding his chest rhythmically, and he cast a glance in Charles’ direction to make sure it was okay. The telepath was still watching him with a mix of surprise and clever attention. Was that a yes?

Erik’s hand grabbed Charles’ so decidedly it felt like a brotherly handshake.

“Charles,” He said nonetheless, “you are... very—”

The aggressive ringing of the telephone startled them both.

Erik sighed inwardly, already fed up with whomever would call at such an hour - whomever would call him _at all_ \- and, since the moment was definitely over and he wouldn’t yell over the phone ringing that Charles’ blue eyes were the most troubling he had ever seen, he abruptly stood up and picked up the offending thing.

 

⊗

 

“He’s _fine.”_ Erik grumbled, clearly pissed to discover the identity of the caller. _“Yes,_ I’ve been careful, we’re alone.” Even though he was resolutely standing with his back to Charles, Erik briefly glanced at the window, before concluding threateningly, “Don’t get in the way.”

And he hung up forcefully.

When Erik turned around, visibly more somber than a few seconds ago, Charles inquired gently, “Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah.”

This was, of course, not to be taken at face value. The temperature in the room dropped to almost cold when Erik grabbed the empty bottle of wine and headed for the kitchen without another word. His mind sliced the air with irritation.

Knowing his friend’s temper, Charles gave him a minute to cool down, but when he still didn’t come back, he arched his neck and spotted him running a hand through his hair. Their eyes locked for a second.

Sighing, Charles rolled his wheelchair to the kitchen and to his friend who was now squatting down in front of a cupboard to choose another bottle of wine. For once, Charles’ eyes had to look down to study the complicated expression. As he came closer, Erik’s thoughts become clearer, gentler, but no less nervous, and Charles realized the frustration might not entirely have come from the call he just received.

Nonetheless, he called, “Erik?” and then, when he got no reaction, “I know she can be a lot to handle. Well, you’re probably aware of it.” This was a highly uncomfortable topic. “Considering you dated her.”

Even though the last thing Charles wanted was to sound resentful — he'd _tried_ to use a neutral wording — some of the old, familiar bitterness might have crept in his voice because it immediately caught Erik’s attention. Blast it. The attentive, appraising face turned to him.

“Charles, it was over ten years ago.” This probably wasn’t Erik’s intent, but Charles felt as chastised as a young kitten. “I can promise you I haven’t been with her since I got out of prison. Nor with anyone.”

The blue gaze was firm on his face, intense as ever, making Charles feel even more uneasy, and he barely managed to croak an “Alright.” before Erik lowered his eyes to Charles’ knees, contemplative. What was he thinking?

To his complete surprise, Erik fell on his knees without a word and then slowly lowered his head until it rested on Charles’ lap. He shut his eyes, and all the telepath could think was, _oh._

 _I’m not one your precious students_ , Erik had said earlier, and now more than then the concealed truth showed through the proud words, _I don’t need you to lick my wounds._

Erik needed comfort. He was the strongest man Charles would probably ever meet in his life, and it was so uncommon, so rare for him to seek reassurance or show the slightest weakness that Charles remained immobile for a moment, afraid to spook him with a miscalculated word, but then, he slid his fingers through Erik’s soft hair, which felt like the most natural thing in the world to him.

Immediately, Erik hummed contentedly.

Oh, that sensation. That sound. Charles felt incredibly empowered to be able to soothe him with a touch, but still a moist emotion lingered in the room, and he offered gallantly, “I’d understand if you’d rather I left for tonight.”

Maybe the mood had been spoiled a few minutes ago. Maybe this was too much. They had moved so slowly for so long, after all. He should go back, let them more time to deal with this.

But Erik didn’t answer, he simply enjoyed the gentle caress in his hair, the hand that massaged his scalp, and Charles would be lying if he said he didn't find the place where Erik’s face stayed was _very_ convenient for less chaste activities, but right now, the abandon and the trust with which he displayed his throat and nape for Charles to graze with the tip of his fingers was beyond enough.

They had both always fantasized about this kind of touches, the telepath realized.

After a calm, restful moment, Charles inquired kindly, “Are you feeling better?”

Softness painted the words. He didn’t want this to stop anytime soon, but Erik probably felt attacked by the question since he barked weakly, “I’m fine.” And then, as the metal and his mind alike seemed to purr in harmony. “I just feel… good. I haven’t been able to touch anyone in ten years.”

By all means, this shouldn’t have turned Charles on. And yet, his hand stiffened with a tremor, and he gulped down when he realized how _close_ Erik’s mouth was to his crotch. Oh, Lord, the fantasies.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to say.

But Erik seemed to get the wrong idea as his mind suddenly — halted, and he raised his head, Charles’ hand sliding to his jaw. “I’m not saying… Shit, Charles. I haven’t been doing all this because I _need sex._ ”

“I should hope not.” Charles replied, smiling quite devilishly. Then he remembered who they were, what they had done to each other, even without a single misplaced touch, and solemnity darkened his features as he understood how deep Erik could hurt him once they got so thoroughly, so completely linked to each other.

“Erik.” He started, but he couldn't stop caressing the chiseled, masculine, strong face now that he had started — not that Erik minded, if the continuous buzzing of his mind was to be trusted. “This is what I was aiming at earlier : what do you hope to get from this date?” He could see different thoughts cross the greyish eyes. “Things have been… complicated, between us, I’m afraid.”

A deep sigh, expanding the chest at his knees, and when Erik rested his head against Charles’ lap once again, this time, he let his thoughtful gaze open. The hand resumed stroking the soft brown hair.

“Do you know _when_ I learned to cook, Charles?”

The telepath shook his head, with the feeling that he would somehow get his answer from the story, and listened as Erik told him, “I was eighteen when I escaped from _Auschwitz Birkenau,_ as you may know. I fled with another prisoner, a girl about my age, and we both first went to hide in Poland.”

A silence that told many things followed, before he said, “Her name was Magda.”

Magda. The name immediately brought back memories Charles perceived from Erik’s mind the first time he had entered it, at the bottom of the CIA facility. A young ginger woman. Softness. And pain. So much pain, so raw. Raw pain coated Erik’s every memory.

He didn’t tell what happened to them, and Charles actually had to bend his face down to make sure Erik wasn’t crying — he wasn’t, but he was frowning, angry, his red-rimmed eyes were angry, and he was pillowed against Charles’ numb thighs, his arms crossed under the telepath’s knees — but none of that showed in his voice as he stated, “That’s when I learned to cook.”

Another untold story, and, “After it happened, I hunted down Shaw as you know, and… really, Charles, the important thing is that I never bothered to wonder if I could still prepare a decent dish for someone until tonight.” Wry amusement colored the sad words with a splash of yellow over the blue.

Charles had always known. Deep down, even if some days after Cuba he had doubted it, he had always known, how deep Erik loved him. Realizing it full force took his breath away.

Erik’s eyes were dry again as he tilted his head to watch Charles from downward. That feral grin was harsh on his lips. Oh, Charles loved it even when it hurt.

“And I never understood what _happiness_ was about”, scorn twisted the word in something ugly, “until I met you. 1962 is a long time ago, but I never forgot those months we spent together.”

 _Neither did I._ He thought. Transmitted?

He never managed to get over Erik Lehnsherr, despite everything. Sometimes Charles didn’t even try.

Erik was studying him intently now, with that unforgiving blazing gaze of his. It all took Charles’ breath away, because he realized not only how deeply Erik loved him, but also that the feeling was mutual, and that made them both terrifying, because having _so much_ power over someone was so terrifying, so formidable, and Charles — Charles had still been trying to dilute all that pain with drugs not so long ago.

Finally, Erik explained, “I don’t _know_ what I want, Charles, I don’t know how to take enough of you to stop hurting without hurting you.” A gentle, ghostly kiss against his — _numb_ — thigh, and with his a raspy voice, he grunted, “I already took so much, and I only… need you _more_. I need more.” The sentence echoed through Charles’ mind, heart, and body. More. _But you already own all of me, Erik._ “I just know life is more than what it was since we started seeing each other again.”

The thoughts in Charles’ brain were reeling. Everything — Everything Erik said —

Realizing the heavy weight of the silence in the kitchen, the mutant chuckled lightly, dared grazing his lips across the hand nearby in a noiseless kiss, sending shivers up Charles’ broken spine, and sneered, “This is a lot to take in one evening, my friend, let’s get back to that wine.”

And so they did.

 

Flip a coin, Erik. You’re so used to the result, you just blindly throw it without hoping anymore to get anything but pain.

 

⊗

 

The fact that they spent an _amazing_ evening together after that should have been surprising, but it wasn't to either of them. Time flew so quickly as they spoke, and spoke, and argued, and elaborated, that midnight came without the main course even being served. The candlelight still bathed their relaxed expressions and bright, slow eyes, but from a different angle as night settled. Erik had levitated a metallic chessboard to their side about an hour previously, and they played distractedly as conversation flew.

At one point, Erik wordlessly added a red rose to the table, which made Charles smile bashfully and slightly blush, of all things. Apparently, Erik enjoyed the view.

At another point, he covered Charles’ left hand with his own, and this time it felt more natural, even if as soon as the telepath started to tentatively stroke it with his thumb, Erik completely lost his focus and the chessboard dropped to the floor, spilling the few remaining pieces everywhere in an aggravating noise.

Erik repressed a sigh. He was a disaster of a date.

“So you can lift an entire stadium above a city but you can’t quite keep your concentration now?” Charles teased mercilessly.

For all answer, the mutant decided that lifting Charles’ wheelchair and everything metallic in the room was quite appropriatea. The telepath was then left to suddenly grab two handfuls of the tablecloth in his haste and surprise.

“How _dare_ you.” He howled, bringing a toothy smile about Erik’s lips. “P—Put me down!”

It’s true. It should've been quite offensive to manhandle Charles like this.

But when Erik raised the wheelchair in a cruel fast shove and Charles _gasped_ , suddenly the entire tablecloth was in his hands, and everything that was on the table either broke or fell: the goulash was knocked over to the ground, the bottle of wine jerked and hit the table before alcohol spurt all over Erik’s nonplussed face and black turtleneck. The chandelier managed to dramatically keel over after everything calmed down and hence set fire to the entire surface of the table because of the spilled wine, and —

Erik just burst out laughing.

It was so sudden a reaction he didn’t see it coming. Charles’ face was so horrified and pissed off, Erik couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up and up inside of him and into his chest, taking all his face.

 _Finally,_ Charles’ soul exhaled in relief.

It lasted but a few seconds, but he found Erik damnably stunning, irresistibly hot, and ended up smiling himself when he was finally put down.

“You’re a madman.” He stated without malice.

In the end, Erik calmed down when the smoke detector started ringing loudly. Immediately, he stood up, swearing — “ _Shit!_ ” — and crushed it with his power by balling his hand into a fist. Charles guessed that it wouldn’t be too good if people started to pop by Magneto’s apartment.

They managed to extinguish the fire relatively easily and without too much commotion.

So far, this was both Charles’ worst and favorite date ever.

It got better when Erik grabbed the tantalizing turtleneck soaked with red wine and declared, “I’m going to get changed, Charles.” but oh, oh, he started undressing before him, and yes, absolutely, the years hadn't been unkind to Erik.

Charles only had a few seconds to stare, but the perfection of Erik’s torso practically assaulted his eyes. Such a slim waist for such broad shoulders should be illegal on a man. Biology either messed up or crafted a god with Erik Lehnsherr.

The sexy and very slight chubbiness made Erik look more protective, more comforting than before, which went straight to Charles’ kinks, but the muscles of his chest were yet still incredibly defined. Charles would have fainted on the spot if he wasn’t so afraid to miss a second of this. He didn’t remember blinking, either.

Swooning like a true Victorian Lady wasn’t what ended the show for Charles, however.

It was the sudden, loud bang on the door.

Once, twice, as if someone was trying to _knock it down._

Charles only had the time to stare dumbly at the door right in front of him before Erik, _Erik_ swiftly sprang into action and launched himself at Charles to protect him with his body. A surprising — but welcome — mouthful of nipple hit him — oh _God_ Erik was muscular — before he realized what was happening.

The door finally gave way and Charles wanted to push Erik away but —

“Oh my _G_ _od!_ I can’t believe it. Hank, step back, you’re totally going to pass out if you see this.”

It was simply Raven.

Even with all the love he had for his little sister, Charles decided he was going to murder her right there and now. Or probably not. She was probably going to skin either him or Erik first, since she was currently facing her half naked ex boyfriend shamelessly straddling her brother. They were completely screwed.

“Why? Are they okay?” Hank asked, that kind soul. And then, inevitably, “O—oh, Professor! I’m sorry!”

Charles’ spirit was currently in seventh heaven because Erik’s torso and firm hands around his neck were the most exciting things that had happened to his libido in the recent years — and Erik was taking an awful lot of time to move, he simply _wasn't_ _moving_ — but he still tried to produce some answer of sort.

“R—Raven, I know this is going to be very hard to believe and you heard that a lot in England, but this is _not_ what you think.”

A snort answered the attempt, and it was still very unclear who would be at the end of her unwelcome wrath. Charles, for lusting after her ex? Erik, for seducing her brother?

At least, the athletic, feline body finally decided to disentangle from Charles’ and his owner greeted, seemingly bored, “Raven.”

“Bastard.” She answered likewise.

When Erik got up and made for his bedroom to seemingly fetch a new shirt, Raven — in her natural blue form — stepped into the living-room and barked, “You come back here, you perverted psycho! What were you doing to my brother?”

“Raven…” Charles warned, massaging his temples with two fingers at a time in the hope that the impending headache would recede. Okay, correction: this was now the _worst_ date of Charles’ life.

He probably should’ve remained quiet : Raven suddenly swirled to him and asked, “And why were _you_ with Erik’s nipple in your mouth?”

“This was an awful coincidence!” Charles argued, flushing bright red in an instant. “Besides, that’s no—”

“...ne of your business, Mystique.” Erik cut in to finish in his stead. He walked back into the room, now wearing a very fetching purple shirt. An eyebrow arched inquisitively in Charles’ direction as he directed his hands towards the shirt, asking for his opinion.

 _Yes._ Charles answered rather desperately.

“Charles is a grown man,” Erik continued, “he can—”

“He can come back home right now, yeah, I think so!” The two mutants faced each other, angrily, uncomfortably close, before Raven broke off to turn to her brother.

She then unexpectedly bent down to take him into her arms. Charles welcomed the surprising embrace with emotion.

“Charles.” She whispered fondly. When she retreated to watch him, her yellow eyes were kinder. “Hank is heading home.”

“Oh, already?” Charles couldn’t help but ask with disappointment in his voice.

Towards the entrance door, Hank fidgeted pitifully. “Sorry, Professor. I thought your evening would be over.”

They had come to New York with only one car (obviously), and Hank was his only way to get back to the Mansion tonight. Usually, if Hank headed back, Charles would follow, but…

“We haven’t even finished dinner.” He complained, and Erik chuckled, but he should have understood Charles absolutely didn’t come for the food.

Instinctively, he looked for his friend’s gaze to read his thoughts. The mutant was impassive as usual, but he didn’t attempt to conceal the wave of longing that emanated from him when Charles asked him by telepathy, _What should I do?_

And then, _But I would have to stay the night…_

Erik’s eyes lit up like a storm, but he kept his thoughts under control and simply answered, _We will figure out something, you’re welcome to stay._

A smile spread over Charles’ face instantly. “I think I’m going to stay.” He declared in Raven’s general direction.

She sighed sympathetically. “I don’t like this. Listen, Charles, I get it, Erik absolutely knows what he’s doing in bed, but don’t let him break your heart all over again because he can make you come just with his tongue, okay?”

For once this evening, both Charles and Erik seemed to flush bright red at the same time. Unknown to all, Erik actually blushed at the yearning thought of Charles coming with only his tongue to fuck him.

“For _God’s sake,_ Raven, I only mentioned staying for dinner!” He cried out, mortified. Oh God, they haven’t even kissed, this was so embarrassing. “I absolutely _never_ intended—”

He abruptly stopped speaking when he realized he didn’t know how to end the sentence without quite obviously lying. Everyone eagerly awaited though, and he muttered lamely, “Well…”

Silence stretched uncomfortably.

Silence stretched, uncomfortably, until, for the umpteenth time this evening, something unexpected happened and — all hell broke loose.

In the midst of silence, a hand grenade suddenly broke through the window and landed between them, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing.

Oh, for pity’s sake.

“Raven!” Was Charles’ first instinct.

Erik’s first instinct was to stretch his arms and throw the grenade back from where it came from. It exploded in mid-air a good three seconds later, lightening the sky, lightening their alert faces and stunned expressions as below, voices started to shout orders. They were here for Erik.

“Fuck!” The mutant cursed as other hand grenades came through the window. He mindlessly threw them back and called, “Charles!”

He was not sure how dates with men were supposed to go, but he wasn’t certain this one would leave a good impression on the telepath.

“Raven, Hank, get away quickly!” The telepath shouted predictably.

“Not without you!” Raven refused.

“Charles can’t run,” Erik interceded, already on the move, “I’ll take care of him. Go!”

Raven obviously hesitated, but the orders became sharper, more urgent, and sounds started to boil over in the lower stories of the building. Charles still couldn’t believe the government crashed his date with Magneto.

“Please contact me when you’re safe.” was all he asked.

Charles couldn’t neutralize the threat unless the situation called for it, otherwise the CIA would know he had helped Erik escape, and his young new students would be in danger. Still, he managed to confuse the soldiers who were now rushing to the third story.

Raven nodded gravely, and both she and Hank disappeared in the corridor, running.

 

Erik was already in the bathroom, a heavy coat thrown over his shoulder as he smashed open the large air vent above, when Charles came back from the kitchen.

“Charles, where were you? Leave the damn cake! Come here.”

Charles rolled his wheelchair to the center of the bathroom, but he had a bad feeling. There was no way Erik was going to be able to levitate his wheelchair through that pipe. To his surprise, the mutant hurriedly bent down to slip the coat on him.

“I’ll have to carry you.” He confirmed a second later, and proceeded to lift Charles into his arms with a huff. They were suddenly chest to chest, and unfortunately Charles couldn’t wrap his legs around Erik’s waist to help him carry him, so Erik did it himself with a hand, and then —

Then their faces were abruptly facing and intimately close, more than they had ever been, which wasn't insignificant, and time stopped longer that it should have in those kinds of very urgent situations.

“Secure your arms around my neck.” Erik instructed hoarsely, trying to sound unaffected, but Charles saw how he couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

This was _absolutely not_ the moment, but time slowed down, and down, and space got smaller, even if the sounds did not stop exploding louder and closer. Oh God, Erik wanted to kiss him. Charles pressed two fingers to his own temple, frowning, and Erik asked, dazed, “Why would you try to read my mind right now?”

“Just wanted to make sure all of this isn’t another elaborate plan to impress me.”

To his delight, Erik simply smiled that insufferable half-smile of his. “You’re impressed?”

“That’s one word for it.”

With a chuckle, Erik came closer to his mouth, pressing their bodies together from torso to middle, and he finally looked above them to start levitating. _Oh,_ what a weird sensation. Especially for someone usually pinned down to a wheelchair. Below them, said wheelchair — somewhat folded — Erik’s helmet, and the Passover brownie cake followed, until they surfaced to the rooftop.

The night air was bitingly cold, it was a relief on Charles’ face.

The sounds of the busy city were suddenly louder, and through the mantle of pollution a few stars shone through above their heads. Erik didn’t stop. He apparently intended to make them levitate like this somewhere safer, and suddenly nothing at all stood below Charles, who was just secured to Erik by the strength of his wrists and a hand against his thigh.

“Hold on tight.” Magneto said again.

Charles didn’t relax until he managed to contact Raven, but then, it occurred to him as he flew above the city with Erik that this horrible date was becoming utterly magical.

The sight all around them was incredible.

“Erik…” He whispered, breathless.

Erik seemed to understand, and nuzzled against his hair, achingly soft. The city kept spreading below them, amazingly infinite, and the wheelchair, the helmet and the cake kept trotting after them like little ducklings after their mother.

Erik’s breath was so warm, so deliciously _hot_ against his ear. A heated kiss against his hair made him shiver. Seeing as the chessboard had crashed down on the floor when he’d stroked Erik’s hand earlier, Charles didn’t dare reciprocate.

 _Don’t let go, Charles._ He could hear against his mind. _But I wouldn’t let you fall, you know that. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, not even me, not anymore, and hurting you is my privilege, since I’d rather kill them all than seeing you hurt. I would end the world if I ever learnt they killed you. So hold on tight, Charles, if you love your precious humans._

They eventually left the sky, to Charles’ slight regret, and Erik lead them to the outskirts of a forest which should not be outstandingly far from Xavier Mansion if his sense of direction served. They landed on solid ground next to a river.

Erik reluctantly let go of the telepath when both of them ended up sitting side by side on the wet grass. It was slightly pouring, but not enough that they noticed it instantly.

“Raven and Hank are okay.” His friend announced, probably feeling the urge to break the silence. “So is the cake.”

Erik chuckled. Such a perfect, natural silence was indeed surprising after this fiasco of a date. It was definitively so horrible Erik’s traditional recipes couldn’t have saved it, but he honestly couldn’t recall a time in his life when he felt happier. Their shoulders were slightly brushing. To his eyes, everything was perfect.

Charles handed him a piece of cake he grossly cut out with his fingers, and they both ate it slowly as they watched the moon’s reflection on the river. Usually, he didn’t care, but tonight Erik found its lapping and the rustling of leaves very soothing.

“You’re going to be cold, Erik.” Charles said at one point.

It was true. The night was chilling, goosebumps had erupted all over his arms and torso as soon as the wind had greeted them, but Erik would’ve rather died of hypothermia than shorten the moment. “I don’t want to leave yet.”

Charles sighed, something sad and defeated, a bit of a sob. Erik turned his head to him, and wished he could read his mind as well. He must have heard him, because the telepath offered a thin smile and explained, “Well, I suppose you’ll have to leave again, now.”

Right. His place was crammed full of cops, his fake identity busted, and he obviously couldn’t go back to his job the next day. Erik was so used to this lifestyle that he only thought about it in passing, but it was true that, for once, leaving for a new city or country also meant leaving Charles.

Charles, who exhaled a shaky laugh and sat up straighter, out of Erik’s gaze, and confessed, “I’m going to miss you.”

They’d been through so much, but never had Charles said something remotely close to this. Erik guessed that maybe their relationship had shifted after tonight. The admission strangely lit a dark, forgotten part of his soul, but he felt sad for the simple reason that Charles was, so he leaned to the telepath’s side and softly applied his lips to his clad shoulder comfortingly.

“I’ll only be gone for a few weeks.” He told him.

Despite the heavy coat, Charles felt his gesture, and upon hearing the words, which Erik hoped made him feel better, he removed the coat awkwardly. Charles’ abs must have been on point with all the upper strength the simplest movements require of him, Erik reflected as he handed it to him.

He didn’t have time to protest that Charles was crawling between his legs to rest with his back to Erik’s chest. As he understood, Erik put the coat on himself gratefully, accommodated Charles, and embraced him to warm him.

The feeling of Charles against him, that incredible man with a twin soul — it was astounding. The weight of his body murdered parts of Erik, and brought to life others, purer. His hands wandered back and forth across his stomach and slightly defined pectorals. Erik felt like someone was setting his entire body on fire.

“I won’t be gone long.” he purred in a low voice in Charles’ ear, “After all, I want to see that school of yours.”

When Charles leaned into his touch with a whimper, Erik kissed his hair sideways, lightly, forcefully. Even though it became increasingly clear the insistent caresses and chaste kisses were progressively making them deliciously restless and heated, the minutes passed by unhurriedly.

Rainy pearls soon ornamented Charles’ wavy hair, a beautiful and cold crown, but Erik didn't leave, he wouldn’t have been able to leave had he tried.

“You know what would make this moment perfect?” Charles eventually asked, languid in his arms as he threw his head back against Erik’s shoulder and bared his throat in the process.

It took a lot of Erik’s willpower not lay him flat on his back and eat him raw until he begged for more. Instead, he ran his eyes over the river and tried to think of some classic date catchphrases.

“If it lasted forever?” He tried, slowly spreading a trail of kisses from the thick brown ear, to the shell of his sensitive ear, to that tempting throat.

Oh, touching Charles’ body, after his mind had so mercilessly wrecked Erik’s universe.

“No.”

Amusement colored his words as he tried again in a soft, promising threat, “If I kissed you?”

“No.” Charles answered, and Erik decided to listen to the answer before taking offense, “ _Wine._ ”

Erik rolled his eyes, but Charles insisted, “Those paper cups would’ve come in handy, my friend.”

“I’ll make sure to bring some the next time I plan to get blown off by a man.” He retorted gruffly, pulling back.

By doing so, he saw just in time the way Charles’ face broke into a playful grin, the way his eyes were shut against the gentle, cold pouring, welcoming it on his pale, slightly freckled face like a gift. A calm, unhurried happiness practically glowed from his skin under the moonlight despite the tense, responsive state of his body, and Erik wondered if he could just tempt fate and bend to kiss the rain off his face, his jaw, his lips to see if he could make that happiness bubble to their mouths and boil over into passion.

Under him, Charles stretched and arched his back slightly, pressing into the hands running over his stomach.

His voice directly resonated into Erik’s mind when he asked, _Please, my friend. I want you to._

When their mouths finally met after all that time, they both quickly forgot everything that should have mattered, such as fate, pain, the past, the future, the true downpour above them which soaked them wet as their bodies frenetically grabbed what fragment of hot skin they could.

They soon realized that all of that didn't matter. They could overcome all of this, as long as they had each other. Thoroughly. Perfectly. Like two sides of the same coin.

Pain.

Love.

_Love._

 

Flip a coin, Erik, one day the rain will come down thicker upon your face, and you’ll blink against the fat tears falling from the dark skies, not realizing how warm it can be, how easily, without thinking, that coin can somehow come back washed of any trace of blood to, this time, land on the other side.

 

 

 


End file.
